


Lodgings

by retorica



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Developing Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-05 02:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retorica/pseuds/retorica
Summary: The one where Veronica is living at Pop's and Jughead finds out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have fallen for this ship, heeeeelp.

 

Jughead yawned and checked the time on his desktop. Yikes, almost 1 AM. He stared at the Word document with a sense of failure. He had barely managed to scrape a few sentences in the span of three hours. 

The diner was deserted except for him and Pop, who was watching a  _Family Feud_ rerun. 

Jughead brought his own plate to the counter. "Slow night, huh?" 

Pop chuckled. "That Steve Harvey. He might have sold out, but the man makes me laugh. Oh, sorry, Jughead. Samantha's night shift hasn't started yet, but she'll come out any moment now." 

"That's fine, I think I'll turn in for the night."

"You'll be wanting the order for your dad. Hang on, I'm gonna pick it up from the kitchen -"

"Hey, don't trouble yourself. I can pick it up myself. Enjoy _Family Feud_."

Jughead had been behind the scenes so often that when he entered the kitchen he didn't pay attention to his surroundings. He went straight for the paper bag on the counter. 

And that was when he heard it.

A light snore.

It was coming from the door to his left which had fallen slightly open when he'd burst into the kitchen. He wondered, _is someone sleeping inside the storage room?_

Curiosity got the better of him. He had to know who was behind that door.

When his eyes landed on Veronica's figure huddled in a fetal position on a small campaign bed, he felt like the world's biggest idiot for not realizing sooner. As a writer, he was supposed to _notice_ these things.

He did not want to disturb her sleep, though he himself was disturbed by the sight of her. What would he do with this information? Veronica didn't want it to be known, otherwise she would have told them. 

But to keep this a secret... it didn't feel right. He had to talk to her tomorrow.

As he turned to leave, his boot unfortunately knocked over a mop and it fell with a deafening crash. 

Veronica bolted up like Frankenstein's bride and was about to scream when she saw Jughead standing in the doorway, looking mortified.

"I'm _so_ sorry, I didn't look where I was going -"

"You scared me half to death! What are you doing back here?" she asked, pulling the blanket to her chest. 

"I was, uh, picking up my food and - and then I heard you - actually, I saw you taking a nap."

 _Nap_. Like that would make it sound less pathetic.

Veronica swung her feet down and grabbed a silk robe from a nail in the wall. The contrast between that small luxury and the cramped room made him flinch. 

"Yes, I like to rest here sometimes," she explained, even though there were two suitcases stashed under the campaign bed. Not to mention, she was wearing a baggy T-shirt and slacks under her robe. Comfortable clothes you'd wear in the privacy of your house. She looked so different from the impeccable girl he knew, though there was still something faintly aristocratic about her. 

Jughead remembered all too well what it was like not to have a real home, to sleep in rooms that were not made for sleeping, to wonder if he would ever have a roof over his head. 

He remembered all of this, and something inside of him shrank at the idea of leaving her to the same fate.

He had been used to crashing wherever he could all his life, but Veronica was used to sleeping on Egyptian cotton and her home had a lobby and a doorman. 

"Do you need something?" she asked a little defensively. "Do you want me to fetch your food?"

"No. _God_ , no. I just - I don't think you should be living here."

Veronica's hands froze on the cordon of her robe. "I don't _live_ here, Jughead. That's ludicrous. I may own the place, but I'm not that attached to it."

He did not believe a single word. He had been in denial too at the time. He sighed. "If you're not attached to it, then I think you should pack your bags and come with me."

She eyed him warily. "Come with you where?" 

"To...my place. I have an extra room. And a functional bathroom and everything." 

Veronica ran a hand through her bed hair, trying to flatten it. "Your generosity is not needed, Jughead. I'm fine where I am." 

Jughead stared down at her. "No, you're not."

 

 

He carried both her suitcases up the steps to his trailer, even though Veronica insisted she could do it herself. 

"You really don't have to -"

"It's fine," Jughead exhaled as he set them down on the floor. He opened his arm and gestured her inside. "Welcome to Casa Jones." 

He had never seen her meek or embarrassed before, but that's exactly what she looked like as she slipped past him. She was still wearing her pajamas under her coat, though she had applied a cherry balm to her lips.  

"It's not much," he said, looking around, trying to see the place from her vantage point. "But it's better than Pop's." 

"Please, you don't have to. I've been looking for a place to rent anyway, so I will be out of your hair by tomorrow-"

"You can stay as long as you like," he said with the most serious face he could manage. He didn't want her to doubt him. "I mean it." 

Veronica turned her head away. "I'm not a charity case."

"I never said that."

"Your actions imply it."

"Anyone in my place would've done the same," he argued.

"Not everyone. You just felt obligated to do it." 

"Listen, it's late. Maybe we can have this argument in the morning."

Before she could open her mouth again, he pointed to the hallway on her left. "You should go straight to bed. Bathroom's across the hall from your room. Let me see if the bed has clean sheets." 

Veronica was left alone for a few moments. She sat down on the couch and folded her arms around her. She was not going to cry, even though this felt like hitting rock bottom. Jughead's pity made it worse.

What hurt the most was not the fact that she had been reduced to bunking with the Serpents. They were fine folk in comparison with her father. What _really_ stung was that Hiram Lodge had driven her here. His machinations had led to this moment, where she was sitting on someone else's couch, trying to swallow her tears. 

When Jughead returned, she quickly wiped her eyelashes.

"Okay, the bed is pretty clean. I added an extra blanket and I put some towels for you on the nightstand."

"My, the full hotel service. I feel pampered," she joked, trying to hide her misery and failing.

Jughead's shoulders sagged. "I know I don't look it, but I'm glad you're here."

Veronica shrugged. "You're a good guy, Jughead. But this won't really fix things long-term." 

"I know. But again, there's always the morning." 

 

 

What surprised her was how quickly she fell asleep. She thought she would toss and turn, being in a strange bed, but as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was gone. The mattress was divine. Anything was better than a rickety campaign bed, really. 

She fell asleep with one thought in her head. She would make breakfast in the morning. 

 

 

Jughead had not told her that the "spare room" was actually his. He hoped his dad wouldn't mind sharing. 

As he sank down on the bed, he remembered something that made him smile. Veronica Lodge snored.

 

 

She slept in. Like _really_ slept in. 

By the time she woke up, it was almost noon and there was no one in the trailer. She felt rested for the first time in _months_.

Veronica padded down the hallway, enjoying the sound of her footsteps in the silence. There was always noise at Pop's, no matter how much she tried to tune it out. 

Jughead had made her coffee, eggs and toast and left them on the kitchen table for her. There was also a small note attached.

_Please don't go anywhere. I'll be back soon._

Then, below, a P.S. _Sorry. Obviously, you can go wherever you like, but just don't move out yet._

Veronica couldn't help a small smile. She had never considered Jughead a close friend, but here he was, trying to save the day.  

She had never imagined that he would be the one to help her, but with Archie in prison and Betty dealing with her mental health, there was nowhere else to go. Nowhere that made sense. 

She sat down at the kitchen table and dug into her eggs. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like the chapter! i'm so stoked for them

His father was not particularly thrilled with the new living situation, but FP Jones knew that he couldn’t turn out a teenage girl, no matter how single-minded she might be.

“Are you sure about this, boy?” FP asked him one last time. “Hiram is not going to like it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of him,” Jughead rebuffed.

“Course not. But that doesn’t mean he’s not trouble. And she’s a handful too.”

“Veronica is not her father. That’s why she’s crashing with us. She lost her inheritance standing up to him.” Jughead felt the need to protect her reputation. She knew most townsfolk would identify her as a Lodge, first and foremost. But she’d bought _Pop’s_  for them and that was not something he overlooked easily. It weighed heavily in the balance.

FP smiled wryly. “Guess we’ll be bunking together like when you were a squirt.”

“Don’t call me squirt. And…don’t be weird, okay? She’s just staying for a while.”

“Weird? You’re the one making it weird. Say, does this place smell like Chanel no. 5 to you, or is it just me?” FP teased, walking out of the kitchen.

Jughead made a face. But it was true, the place had a new “fragrance” now that Veronica had properly installed herself.

He didn’t know if he liked it.

 

 

The conversation with Betty went a lot smoother than he’d imagined. Of course, there was nothing “improper” about Veronica staying with him. Betty knew him better than that and trusted him completely. Still, there had been that whole rigmarole last year where Betty kissed Archie and Jughead and Veronica also kissed to settle the score. And maybe the awkwardness of that misguided weekend hadn’t entirely dissipated.

But he’d been wrong.

“Juggie, I’m so proud of you! Veronica was never going to admit she needed help. I’m so glad you could be there for her.”

Jughead leaned back in his seat. He exhaled with a smile. “Really?”

“Of course. It’s what Archie would’ve wanted too, I think.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Jughead mumbled, privately considering that maybe his best friend shouldn’t know about this yet. He had enough to worry about in prison.

“You’re doing such a good thing,” Betty persisted, lacing her fingers with his.

Jughead squeezed her hand. “Yeah, I hope St. Peter keeps track. Hey, isn’t it time to take your pills?”

Betty rolled her eyes with a smile. “Are you monitoring me now, Dad?”

“I _may_ have memorized your schedule.”

“That’s really dorky and sweet, and to answer your question, I took them earlier. I’m okay,” she said, placing the straw in her mouth.

Jughead had no way of verifying that. He just had to trust her, just like she trusted him.

 

 

Veronica figured out the jig about the “spare room” on the second day.

“That’s _your_ room, isn’t it?” she asked him as they both shrugged their coats on for school.

 “What?”

“My current bedroom. I’ve supplanted you,” she said, arranging the clasp on her Prada bag.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t use it often –”

“Liar. I found a whole stack of Thomas Mann in the wardrobe. I doubt FP is interested in German existentialism.”

 _Shit_ , he thought he’d cleared all of his stuff out of there.

“Aha, I knew it,” she said victoriously when his expression gave in. “Though the notion does disturb me a little bit.”

Jughead frowned. “Why?”

“I mean I know what teenage boys do in their rooms, all by themselves…” she trailed off, flipping open her compact to check her lipstick.

Jughead went twenty shades of red and white. “Okay, I changed my mind. You’re out of here.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Settle down, I'm only teasing. But I’m sure you and Betty have _also_ done some things in that bed –”

“Veronica!”

“It's okay, Jughead. When two people love each other a lot and want to express their feelings, they get naked and –”

He put his hands over his ears. “La la la la.”

“Besides, I think you should be more embarrassed about the Ian Fleming book I found in your sock drawer. I mean, you? Reading James Bond? _Shocking_.”

“I’m glad you’re _really_ settling in,” he drawled, giving her a look. “And I’ll have you know _Casino Royale_ is a modern classic.”

“Mm, I think our definitions of modern classics vary dramatically,” she mused, as she slipped the bag over her arm.

“Clearly,” he muttered, opening the door for her, glad to be out in the fresh air and away from her persona for a few hours.

 

 

The mornings were difficult, because Veronica hogged the bathroom until he had to knock _really_ loud and then graduate to beating down the door. For someone who had seemed reluctant to move in, she was really taking ownership of the place.

When she deigned to come out, she was always fully dressed.

He never saw her traipse out in a towel, thankfully. Not that it would have been a big issue. He had seen her half-naked during that accursed weekend at the cabin. But it would not be wise to repeat the experience.

“Look, as a woman of high standards,” she explained to him when he brought up the issue, “I need at least an hour in the bathroom, I’m sorry.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “No, you don’t. No one needs that much time _every day._ How did you manage at _Pop’s_ anyway?”

Veronica bit her lip. He saw her hesitate. “I had a portable shower in the back. And the restrooms to myself until we opened.”

Jughead groaned internally. He felt pretty shitty for asking now. He rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. “It’s just that this is a household of _three_ now and –”

“It would cut the time in half if I had a mirror in my room,” she explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 _Oh._ Jughead had never realized they only had the one mirror in the bathroom. He suddenly felt stupid.

“Okay, I’ll get you a mirror.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll buy one from the mall, it’s fine.”

“I said _I’m_ getting you a mirror,” he almost growled, because damn it, he was going to be a good host. And he knew how strained her budget was.

“Ideally, it should be a mounted mirror complete with lights, but I know that’s not feasible,” she said, marching into the kitchen to make coffee.

“Jesus, mounted mirror,” he muttered after her.

“Well, there’s not enough light in this trailer,” she explained matter-of-factly. Before Jughead could open his mouth, she smiled a small, shy small. “The coffee is great, though. Better than at Pop’s, but don’t tell him I said so.” 

He was only mildly mollified.

 

 

It was a bit difficult trying to coordinate each other’s schedules during the day, but in the mornings they rode the bus to school together. It was the logical thing to do.

They sat side by side, Jughead with his headphones on, head stuck in a book, Veronica scrolling through her phone or taking out her own superior book to shove in his face.

He always looked up to see what she was reading.

She was also one of the only people he knew who read the newspaper. And I mean _really_ read the newspaper, page to page, start to finish.

She sometimes brought it on the bus, making him feel like he was riding next to Eleanor Roosevelt. 

“Could you put that away?” he asked her once, and the dirty look she gave him was enough to silence him on the subject.

He couldn’t exactly fault her. He liked to peruse newspapers too, but she was obsessive about it.

She wasn’t just checking up on her dad, she was interested in all sorts of town events that would have bored him stiff.

The slightly amusing part about this whole process was that she usually had to take out her glasses when she was doing some intense reading. He was still not used to her glasses. They were stylish, but also a little bit ridiculous, like the pair Roz wore on _Monster Inc_.

“My glasses look nothing like that,” Veronica retorted when he made a snide comment one morning.

“Pixar begs to differ.”

“You’re remembering it wrong,” she said, as they walked into school.

“Pretty sure I’m not. I’ll download it tonight and show you.”

They parted after that, going their separate way like they always did, like they didn’t even live together.

But that night, they sat down on the couch a few feet apart, his laptop between them. Jughead only meant to show her the scenes with Roz, but they ended up rewatching the whole of _Monster Inc_.

Veronica was wearing a loose tank top and slacks and he was still getting used to the dressed down version of her.

She yawned as the movie came to an end and smiled. They’d both finished a pizza pie.

“Thanks, I needed that. I missed being a kid for one night.”

Jughead turned the laptop off. “Well, we’ll all be kids again when we turn senile in old age.”

Veronica wrinkled her nose. “Gee, thanks for the Hallmark card.”

“Sorry.” He smiled. “Glad it helped?”

She nodded and removed herself from the couch, making sure not to touch him. Jughead stared at the spot she’d vacated. There was that fragrance in the air again. He sighed. He didn’t relish going to bed with his dad. But he supposed it was worth it. He liked it when Veronica smiled.

 

 

“What’s that you got there?” Betty asked, pointing at the hefty package Jughead was struggling to balance on the back of his motorcycle.

“Just Veronica’s mirror.”

Betty raised both eyebrows.

“She, uh, needs a mirror in her room. I found it at a yard sale. I just have to figure out a way to install the lights.”

Betty laughed. “She’s got you whipped already, huh?”

Jughead made a face. “Never say those words to me again.”

“Aww, it’s cute.”

“No. This is a one-time thing. I’m not getting her anything else.”

Betty smiled. She knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise. Deep down, Jughead was a softie. She was glad he was beginning to warm to Veronica. She _was_ glad.

 

 

Betty came to visit often and Veronica almost always managed to be out or offer an excuse to leave.

“I’ll let you two get comfortable... _really_ comfortable,” she winked as she dashed out of the trailer, carrying her waitress uniform in a duffel bag.

 Jughead knew what she was doing. He knew _why_ she was doing it. And he was kind of horrified. 

Betty laughed. “Did Veronica just leave so we can have sex?”

He groaned. “Yeah. She does this often.”

The problem was, Veronica’s smell and presence were still pervasive in the trailer and, nine times out of ten, Jughead wasn’t able to forget it and just let go. He had to break off the kisses when they became too heated or when Betty’s hands landed in his pants.

“S-Sorry, can we maybe relocate? It’s too weird.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“It’s just – she could walk through the door at any moment.”

“She won’t. Ronnie left because she _doesn’t_ want to interrupt us,” Betty purred, distracting him with another kiss.

But it was hopeless. He couldn’t relax. And he didn't want to think of Veronica as 'Ronnie' either.

This put a small strain on their on-and-off sex life, but Betty argued it was kind of exciting to try and sneak him into her room, under Alice Cooper’s watchful eye.

Secretly, they were both a little frustrated, but they would never blame Veronica for it.

After all, she was always trying to get out of their way.

 

 

“Bets?” he called out one morning, shuffling out of his and his dad’s room in his trunks and T-shirt. He rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He went over to put his arm around her, when a sharp elbow hit him in the chest.

“You’ll ruffle up my wig,” Veronica complained archly.

Jughead took a step back. He blinked.

No, of course this wasn’t Betty, and he might actually need glasses if he managed to make that mistake. In his defense, Veronica was wearing a blond wig which…clashed terribly with her complexion.

“What the hell?”

He had to swallow a bout of laughter. She looked like Bonnie and Clyde gone wrong.

“Don’t smirk. It’s the only way they’ll let me see Archie in prison.”

“Oh. That’s – that’s clever, I guess.” He looked away to hide an insidious bout of snickers.

Veronica huffed and crossed her arms. “By all means, have a laugh at my expense.”

“No, uh, sorry – I know you’re doing it for a good cause.”

The problem was, she added a scarf too, for effect. She wrapped it around her hair like she was Zsa Zsa Gabor, and that’s when he broke down laughing.

Veronica rolled her eyes and walked past him, making sure to jab him in the foot with her heel.

 

 

During the second week of her stay with the Joneses, Veronica came home one night with her face downcast and her mascara slightly running.

Jughead noticed it first, but she quickly dashed into her room and closed the door shut.

FP signaled to him. “Go talk to her. Something must’ve happened.”

Jughead sighed. He was ill-equipped for this, but he’d give it a try.

He knocked gently on Veronica’s – well _his_ door.

“Hey. You okay in there?”

“Peachy,” was her slightly cracked reply.

 _Shit._ Today had been her visiting day at the prison. What had Archie said? What had he done to upset her?

Okay, why was he jumping to _that_ conclusion? And why was he getting angry at this hypothetical scenario?

He shook it off. They were all on edge about Archie. Prison didn’t just mess with the one inside.

“You don’t sound peachy. Do you want to talk? I promise I won’t make jokes about the wig.”

She opened the door eventually. Her face was shuttered, but it was obvious she had been crying, even though she had wiped the mascara. She was a lot more fragile without her armor of make-up. Jughead had to take a step back because they were standing too close.

“What happened?”

She lifted one shoulder and smiled a bitter smile. “I told you I was looking for rent. I didn’t want to trespass on your hospitality any longer.”

“You’re not –”

“Every place I went to rejected my application even though my credit wasn’t bad. It didn’t hit me until the third rejection. I should’ve known sooner. Hiram called me to let me know no one in Riverdale would house me.”

The fact that she was now calling her father ‘Hiram’ was not lost on him, but Jughead was too busy dealing with his anger at the would-be mobster. What he’d done was inexcusable. It was –

He clenched his jaw. He felt so tempted to gather up his Serpents and pay him a visit, misguided as that might be.

He took a deep breath.

“You _do_ have a house here. Well, a trailer. But it’ll always be open to you.”

Veronica stifled a small sob and turned away. She didn’t want him to see her like this. There were certain boundaries that she didn’t like to cross.

But at the last minute she looked back, and perhaps it was the understanding look in Jughead’s eyes but she suddenly _really_ needed a friend and when he opened his arm an inch, she fell right into him.

It was their first hug. 

He put his other arm around her and she rested her head gingerly on his shoulder and tried not to wet his shirt.

Jughead rested his chin in her hair and rubbed comforting circles on her back. “It’s going to be okay.”

He didn’t know if he believed it, but too much shit had piled up. Something had to give.

He held her for a few moments, feeling her warmth, inhaling her fragrance before he pulled away.

She wiped her eyelashes self-consciously. “God, I’m a roadside attraction.”  

Jughead shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know who’d pay to see that.”

She smiled and tapped him on the chest playfully. “You’re terrible. But thank you.”

“If you need anything –”

She folded her arms around her. “You’ve already done a lot. I won’t forget it.”

Veronica stepped back into the room and closed the door – _his_ door – gently. Jughead was tempted to eavesdrop and see if she was still crying, but he walked away.

He knew she hated pity. Though, he wasn’t quite sure if it was pity he felt.

He was going to get those lights installed above her mirror though.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the feedback! i'm still obsessed

Veronica set down two chocolate milkshakes. He had never noticed that they shared this dairy preference. He frowned, staring at the whipped cream and the cherry on top. He felt like throwing up, but the milkshakes weren’t the reason.

“Okay, start from the beginning,” Veronica said, facing him. “You went inside to fetch your laptop –”

“Which was entirely your fault, by the way,” Jughead pointed out moodily. “I wouldn’t have needed to go back for it if you hadn’t used it the previous night.”

“If you didn’t want me to borrow it, you shouldn’t have left it lying around,” she explained with perfect logic, licking the top of the whipped cream.

Jughead would have liked nothing better than to argue with her on the topic of ownership and private property, but he was too rattled for a proper debate.

“Anyway, I – I was halfway down the hall when Alice Cooper walked out of my – mine and my dad’s room, wearing nothing but his goddamn shirt. She – she screamed like a banshee. Dad came running out in his shorts. At least he’d managed to put them on. They fed me some half-assed lie about Alice showing up to talk about Dilton’s murder. It was – _God_ , it was so transparent. I wanted to tell them to just give it a rest." 

Veronica was trying hard to suppress a smile.

“I’m telling you I was traumatized, Lodge, and you’re grinning.”

“Oh, stop. You’re being way too dramatic. Alice and FP were always inevitable. I’m surprised it took them this long to reconnect.”

Jughead made a face. “Ugh. Please don’t. I thought they’d moved past high school.”

“Maybe nobody really does,” Veronica said, popping the cherry in her mouth.

Jughead stared at her mouth for a moment and shook his head forcefully. “I sleep in that bed, damn it. And Dad just had his way with Alice there.”

“I’m sure he forgot about it in the heat of the moment. You know...they got caught up in the passion."

“I'm going to throw this milkshake at you." 

Veronica cocked her head to the side. “Why does this bother you so much? Don’t you want FP to be happy?”

Jughead took a long gulp of his shake. He wiped his mouth. “Sure...but he and Alice, I don’t think that could last. I mean beyond their dalliance… They’re too different, their worldviews are miles apart. Alice wants to reform Dad, and Dad probably wants old Alice back, the one he met in high school. But it doesn’t work that way.”

“Hmm. Maybe it doesn’t have to last. Maybe what they have is ephemeral but beautiful anyway,” she offered.

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Can you not romanticize them for a moment?”

“You’re the one romanticizing. Sometimes it’s just about good sex and chemistry. Nothing more to it.”

Jughead drummed his fingers against the table. “It’s still…it’s a bad idea. I mean…what does that make Betty and me?”

Veronica raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on. Our _parents_ are having sex. It’s disturbing and a little incestuous.”

“That doesn’t mean you and Betty are a replica of FP and Alice. You’re not them.”

“I know, but it still weirds me out that we’re kind of repeating history, that we basically crave the same things.”

Veronica stared at her fingers splayed on the table. The nails were no longer perfectly manicured. The nail polish was coming off in strips. She thought about what he'd said, about her own parents too. Her mother’s short-lived romance with Fred Andrews, how much it had disappointed her, while also rendering her mother a little more human.

“We’re not our parents,” she insisted, looking up at him.

Jughead didn’t seem convinced by her assertion, but his lips curved into a wistful smile. “It’s silly, but I guess I was still holding out hope that…someday, Mom and Jellybean would return and Dad would welcome them with open arms. That’s what he used to say – he was getting his act together so he could be ready for Mom.”

Veronica felt a knot in her throat. She knew it was difficult for him to admit to such fantasies. These secret hopes always rendered you more vulnerable than you intended.  She felt immensely sad for him, but she didn’t want to ruin it by saying something rote and meaningless. What _could_ she say, anyway? People change? He already knew that.

She reached out with hesitant fingers, but she did not touch his hand across the table. Their fingers rested in each other’s vicinity, without meeting. But it was enough for the moment.

Eventually, she got up and returned to serving tables.

She felt his wandering gaze as she moved from table to table, but when she turned in direction, he was staring down at his milkshake.

 

 

The atmosphere in the trailer was loaded that evening.

Veronica and Jughead sat on the couch, a decent distance between them, as they watched _Wall-E_. They’d decided to continue revisiting Pixar classics. It was a way to disconnect from the madness that was constantly trying to engulf their lives. The contrast was soothing, to see their childhood unfold on the screen.

FP had gone to bed, but he and Jughead had not shared many words.

Veronica sensed that Jughead was reluctant to get up and join him. She hugged her knees to her chest.

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”

Jughead leaned his head against the couch. “I don’t have to do anything except watch this robot try to single-handedly remove all the junk from Earth.”

“There’s a Freudian joke in there somewhere,” she muttered, staring down at her socks.

Jughead smiled. “You’re welcome to try and psychoanalyze me.”

“Oh God. We’d be here all night.”

“Well, _I_ will be. I’m not going back in there,” he said, pointing to FP’s room.

 “I’m sure he changed the sheets.”

“ _Not_ the point. But yeah…I hope he changed the sheets.”

Veronica laughed a short laugh and leaned her head against the couch. “You realize they’ll keep doing what they’re doing in that bed, or somewhere else, and you’ll have to get used to it.”

Jughead scowled, though his eyes regarded her with amusement. "Thanks for the pep talk." 

Her expression morphed into one of guilt. “I guess if I hadn’t moved in, you wouldn’t have to –”

“Don’t do that. I’d still want you to be here. I told you.”

“Yes, yes.” She smiled. “I have a hard time believing it, but I do believe you." 

They returned to watching Wall-E, but their focus waned gradually. Veronica was constantly tired from her shifts at Pop's and Jughead slept poorly as a rule. It was no surprise when they both fell asleep, halfway through the movie.

Sometime in the middle of the night FP threw a blanket over them.

In the morning, Jughead woke up with a crick in his neck, only to find that his head was resting against Veronica’s shoulder and one of his hands was almost circling her waist.

He stood like that for a second, enveloped in her warmth, before he disentangled himself hastily, waking her up in the process.

Veronica groaned, numb limbs protesting against sudden movements. She kicked the blanket off them and rubbed her temples, trying to remember where she was.  She met Jughead’s eyes.

“I feel like we slept on a park bench.”

“I’ll have you know this couch is more comfortable than a bed.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I slept fine,” he insisted, running a hand through his hair.

They both looked disheveled and unkempt and just a little bit too young. Veronica turned away, to shield herself, and to not observe him too closely. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept with someone like this.

“I call shotgun,” she announced awkwardly, and dashed towards the bathroom. 

Jughead leaned back against the couch. He hadn’t lied. It had felt nice – despite the crick in his neck – to sleep next to her, to share the warmth.

 

 

“No, Reggie, you can’t hang pin-up girls on the walls. This is a Speakeasy, not Hugh Hefner’s pool house.”

Veronica stood with her hands on her hips as Reggie balanced the picture frames against his arm. She had selected some tasteful Dadaist art to go as a background for the bar.

Jughead climbed down the stairs and walked over to Betty who was helping with the Opening Night posters. He glanced briefly towards Reggie and Veronica, huddled together, talking about art, of all things.

He felt that this topic of discussion warranted different company.

Betty kissed him on the cheek.

“Hey, what’s Reggie doing here?” he asked, rubbing her arm affectionately.

Betty shrugged. “He said he wanted to help. Since Archie couldn’t be here…”

“He’s replacing Archie?” Jughead asked, a little forcefully.

“ _No_ , of course not. Look, I know you don’t particularly like him, but he’s trying to be a good guy and do his part.”

“Huh, sure. It's not like I'm gonna stop him.”

 

 

At school, Reggie sat next to Veronica at lunch, ignoring Jughead and Betty while he talked V’s head off about the last minute preparations for Opening Night. He had offered to be the Maître D for the occasion and his enthusiasm for the job rivaled his devotion to football.

Jughead picked at his food with a sense of growing irritation. Reggie was not part of the core four - their little select group. He also wasn't one of his own, one of his Serpents. Hell, he wasn’t even part of the larger entourage which included Kevin and Josie. He was barely an acquaintance. He couldn’t understand why he was cozying up to Veronica, especially since he professed to be Archie’s friend. What kind of friend blatantly flirted with the other friend's girlfriend while he was in _jail_?

Later, Reggie walked Veronica to class even though he didn’t take A.P. Bio. He even offered to give her a ride after school, but she politely declined. 

Jughead blamed his journalistic curiosity, but he wanted to know why the jock was tagging along so faithfully.

As he and Veronica rode the bus that evening, he decided to tackle the subject.

“Can I ask why Reggie is butting into everyone’s business lately?”

Veronica lowered her book. “What are you talking about? He’s just giving a hand.”

“Uh-uh. I don’t buy these random acts of kindness.”

“They’re not random. He – he’s trying to honor the promise he made Archie.”

Jughead sat up straighter. “What promise?”

“Archie made him promise he’d look after me while he was…” she trailed off, pulling at her cuff link.

He noticed she didn’t seem particularly pleased or even comfortable with the notion.

“I know,” Veronica sighed. “It sounds outdated and paternal.”

“I'd just call it sexist,” he countered. “But essentially, yes.”

“Don’t be too harsh on him. It’s the thought that counts.”

Jughead nodded wanly. What really bothered him but could not express was the fact that Archie had asked Reggie instead of him, his _best_ friend.

 _Does he not trust me to look after her?_   he wondered, staring at Veronica’s profile.

He was the one who had plucked her out of Pop’s, after all.

 _Now who’s being sexist?_   he chided himself with a scowl.

“Hey, Holden Caulfield. Could you brood a little less? You’re scaring the passengers,” Veronica quipped, not looking up from her book.

 

 

The three of them – FP, Jughead and Veronica – were sharing a frozen dinner at the kitchen table. 

Jughead was content with the silence, content to ignore the awkwardness between him and his father, but FP had other plans.

“Listen,” his father began, “you don’t have to worry. Alice won’t come by the trailer again. That was a – a one-time thing.”

His meager promise sounded unconvincing. In fact, Jughead didn’t believe a word of it, but he also knew he couldn’t stop his father from going after what he wanted. The Joneses were a stubborn clan.

It was Veronica who chimed in unannounced.

“Jughead means well. He only thinks this situation is weird because he and Betty…well, it’s a little _Flowers in The Attic_ for them _._ ”

Jughead stared at her, dumbfounded. “Veronica!”

“I get it,” FP mumbled, both horrified and amused. “Yeah, I can see how that sort of throws a wrench into your relationship.”

“There is _no_ wrench. Betty and I are solid, and I don’t care who you happen to sleep with. Excuse me.”

With that, Jughead got up and marched to their shared room, slamming the door behind him.

Veronica moved her peas around the plate self-consciously. “Teenagers, eh?”

“Don’t start,” FP replied. “You always goad him. You have a talent for it.”

“Why, thank you.”

FP smiled. “Do you think he’ll be okay about this?”

“Mmm. He’ll probably write a short story where he makes you suffer for your transgressions. But that’s about it.”

FP chuckled. “I like you better than your dad. Better than your mom too.”

Veronica perked up. “You knew my mom in high school?”

FP picked up the empty plates. “Yeah, I knew her. I knew her pretty well.”

He didn’t offer much else in the way of information regarding Hermione, but he implied that Veronica was a little more independent, a little more self-sufficient.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said, winking at her.

Veronica received the compliment with grace. It only dawned upon her much later as she got ready for bed. The subtext of the conversation.

Oh God.

Had FP and her mother _done_ anything in high school?

Veronica shook her head. No, not everyone in this godforsaken town was _involved_. It might have been a random flirtation.

But of course she couldn’t get the notion out of her head. She suddenly understood Jughead’s aversion.

She certainly didn’t want to repeat the pattern.

And of course there was no chance of that.  She and Jughead would always be just good friends.

 _Good friends?_ When he did he graduate from friend to good friend, she wondered?

She fell asleep, still wondering. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for the feedback! these two really have a hold on me

The world dimmed a little bit after Penny Peabody left _Pop’s_ that afternoon.

Veronica sat dumbfounded at the counter, trying to shake off the terror in her belly.

She had put up a good front while that vile woman mouthed off her threats, but now she was seriously contemplating what the Ghoulies might do to her Speakeasy. She did not have her family anymore to look after her, not really. Her mother was too scared to go against Hiram. She would have to fend for herself. She had to be smart, come up with a strategy.

But at the moment, her mind was a blank. She clenched her fingers in her lap. She had to push through this debilitating fear and not let herself be intimidated.

When Reggie showed up a few minutes later holding a crate of root beers, she forced a limp smile on her mouth and guided him down to the basement.

“You okay, V? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just opening night jitters, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there if anything goes wrong.” And to make good on his word, he slid a hand over her back, patting her in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture.

Under different circumstances she might have welcomed the kindness, but she was too caged up from her confrontation with Penny. She moved out of his grasp.

“Thank you, Reggie.  It’s such a relief to be able to count on you.”

The boy beamed at her. But the truth was, she was not relieved at all.

A few hours later, Sheriff Minetta showed up for a surprise inspection and Veronica had to do her best not to act nervous. She knew very well that this was a shake-down and she couldn’t afford to show any weakness. But her knees nearly gave in when Reggie discovered a stash of jingle-jangle hidden in one of the crates.

“Veronica, I swear, these are not mine, I would _never,_ I mean my mom would kill me, I don't know how –”

She shushed him quickly, stifling the panic in her voice. “I know, Reggie. I _know_. Someone’s trying to sink us. I’ll go and stall Minetta but you have to get rid of it. Now.”

They almost got caught. _Almost_. 

Veronica knew this was just the beginning. 

The worst part was, she knew exactly who was trying to sink her.

By the end of the day, she was a bundle of nerves. The entire experience had left her so exhausted and drained that she couldn’t even finish her shift. She caved in and accepted a ride from Reggie. Only when they were halfway to the Pembrooke did she realize he had no idea she lived with Jughead now. Veronica decided not to tell him.  It was not the right moment for such disclosures. She smiled at him and thanked him as he dropped her off in front of the penthouse.

When his car disappeared down the street, she finally let her shoulders sag.

Veronica stared up at her old home. It had seemed like a fortress once, but now it looked like a prison. She folded her arms across her chest. She wouldn’t cry _here_ of all places. She wouldn’t give her father that satisfaction.

All she had to do was walk to the bus stop and wait.

A light drizzle had started while she was contemplating her next move. The clouds had been threatening to spill for some time.

Veronica dashed under the Pembrooke’s awning. She shivered under her thin jacket. She didn’t want to get wet. She didn’t want to take the bus by herself. She didn’t want to be here.

She just wanted things to go well for once. She had thought that coming to Riverdale was going to start a new chapter in her life, but it seemed like she had reached the end of the book. 

She fumbled in her purse for her phone. She chose to call instead of text. She was a little desperate.

He answered on the third ring. He sounded baffled.

“ _Veronica_?”

She could understand the tone of surprise. She hardly ever called. She couldn’t remember the last time they had spoken over the phone, if ever. They usually texted each other if something came up.

Jughead must’ve sensed this was different though. There was a sliver of anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? What happened?”

 “Um. I’m okay. I’m – just fine.” But her voice cracked at the end, in spite of her best efforts.  Her eyes smarted with small tears. “I just need you to come get me, please.”

 “Where are you?” Jughead asked, not bothering to hide his alarm anymore.

Veronica told him and then she hung up, because she did not want him to hear her crying. She put her face in her hands and swallowed a sob.

She hoped she hadn’t come off as rude on the phone.

 

 

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes later when she saw a sleek black motorcycle rounding the curb.

Veronica stepped back.

Jughead drew to a stop in front of her and pulled off his helmet. His dark hair fell into his eyes. She might have appreciated the moment’s cinematic quality, had she not been on the verge of a breakdown.

Veronica wiped her cheeks hastily and schooled her features into something resembling objection. “I’m not getting on _that_.”

“Sorry, this was last minute.” Jughead regarded her with a mixture of impatience and concern. “Don’t you want to get out of here?”

Veronica bit her lip. She was too proud to admit she had never ridden on the back of a motorcycle before. But she couldn’t stand another second in front of the Pembrooke.

Jughead threw the helmet into her arms. She stared down at it as if it were alien technology.

“Put it on, Lodge. It won't bite."

Veronica struggled with the clasp. Her fingers were shaking.

 Jughead dismounted with a harried sigh and walked up to her. He took hold of her jaw and tipped her head up. He stared at her face, taking note of her wet cheeks. It only lasted a second. He lowered his eyes and fastened the clasp under her chin. His touch was not exactly gentle, but it carried with it a strange comfort. The contact jolted her a little bit, dispersed her dreary thoughts.

The problem was, she was wearing a pencil skirt, which proved to be very poor riding apparel.  She mounted the bike with his help, holding onto his arm for support, but she couldn’t ignore the way her skirt rode up her thighs – and neither could he, not entirely, though he made sure to look the other way.

Veronica flushed with embarrassment. Jughead had already seen her tear-stained face; he didn’t need to get the full show.

She soon forgot about her skirt. He placed her hands around his lower back, securing them at his waist. “Hold tight and don’t let go.”

Veronica did as instructed. She leaned against his back.

The first thing she felt was warmth as the wheels skidded against the asphalt.  But then it was cold – shockingly cold – as he sped up and the road became a blur. She closed her eyes, tightening her hold around him. It felt like floating, but you still got the sense you were tethered to the ground. Like a kite on a string.

It was liberating to be carried away on the wind. The solidity of him, the fact that she could trust him, it made her forget her fears. 

It was sort of funny because Hiram would’ve had a heart attack to see his daughter hop on a Serpent’s bike in front of the Pembrooke.

 

 

As soon as they got through the door, Jughead was asking ten questions a minute.

Veronica kicked off her heels. She just wanted to lie down and take a nap, maybe sleep for the whole week and wake up with a clear head and no skeletons in the closet. But Jughead was like a dog with a bone.

“Na-ah. You’re not going to avoid me. What the hell happened? Actually, what I want to know is who made you cry?”

“ _Please._ Can’t a girl get emotional from time to time?” she teased, trying for a smile.

“I’m serious, Veronica.”

She moved past him towards her room. Jughead followed, peppering her with questions.

“Did Hiram call you? Is that why you were at your old place? Listen, whatever he said, we can fix it – ”

“It’s _my_ mess to fix, Jughead,” she interceded, “but no, it wasn’t him. Although he’s certainly involved.”

“Then why were you there?”

Veronica sighed. She stumbled into her room – Jughead’s to be exact – and dropped on the end of the bed. She leaned down and massaged her ankles with a sigh. She still felt a little lightheaded from the ride.  

“Reggie…he doesn’t know I live here,” she explained. She noticed Jughead’s expression turned a little mulish when she told him about him giving her a ride.

She was getting rather annoyed with Jughead’s antipathy. Yes, Reggie used to bully him, but the boy had changed. He had not gone after Jughead in months. Quite the contrary.

“So, he’s not the one who made you cry?” Jughead asked testily.

“Will you stop it with that? I’m not some formidable ice queen who can’t ever show vulnerability.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “You’re pretty close, though.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, it takes a lot of effort to make you crack.”

“Gee, thanks for the diagnosis.”

“It’s meant as a compliment. Now tell me what happened or else you don’t get to have your nap.”

“Sleep deprivation?” she quipped. “That’s a form of torture, you know.”

“Call me the Patriot Act. Now spill.”

Veronica heaved a sigh. She clenched her fingers in her lap. “Penny Peabody dropped by _Pop’s_ to deliver a message.”

If the mention of Reggie had drawn a mere frown from Jughead, the mention of the vicious Ghoulie queen turned his expression near murderous.

Veronica flinched.  His features were transformed. She had never seen him so angry before.

Jughead crouched down to her level and took hold of her wrist. “Did she threaten you? Did she hurt you? Tell me.”

Veronica blinked. “I’m not that fragile, Jughead. She – she merely implied that she would sabotage my business if I did not comply with her demands.”

His eyes flickered darkly. “It was more than that. It’s always more than that with her.”

Veronica looked away. “There was also Sheriff Minetta...”

The whole story came out in fragments.

Jughead was pacing the room angrily. “This can’t go on. She needs to be put down. For good this time.”

“ _Jesus_ , Jughead. Are you hearing yourself?”

For the first time, she saw his father in him. She wasn’t sure what to think. She knew Jughead and Penny had collided before, and she’d also heard that he had done _something_ to her, something which still rankled, obviously.  But Veronica knew this wasn’t the right time to ask.

“She’s done this before,” he ranted furiously. “She threatened Betty once too.”

Veronica frowned. What did _that_ have to do with it?

“Yes, but that was about _you_. She was threatening your girlfriend. This is about me and my father.”

Jughead glanced up. His brow furrowed. He nodded. “Yeah… you’re right. But she still needs to be stopped. I can’t let her go after more people.”

 “You almost got beaten to death once,” she pointed out warily. “I don’t think she’d let you live a second time.” The thought of him in the hospital alarmed her. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

He sighed. “I won’t. The only way to defeat her is to outsmart her. But I won’t let this go. She’s crossed too many lines.”

Veronica smiled a sad smile. She was touched by his anger on her behalf. It was a nice feeling.  Nicer than Reggie’s dutiful protection.

She drew herself up on the bed and gathered the blankets around her. “We’ll come up with something. I haven’t read _The Art of War_ for nothing.”  

Jughead stopped pacing. He stared down at her. “I should’ve been there with you.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “ _Pop’s_ is my territory now and she knows it. I don’t think she would have tried anything there.”

“Still.” Jughead sighed. “I should’ve –”

“No, what you need to do is let me sleep so I can be ready for tonight.”

He nodded wanly. She could tell he wanted to say more, probably to further self-incriminate.

“Thank you,” she added shyly. “Thank you for today. You’re a good friend, Jug.”

For some stupid reason she was almost tempted to say _, Betty is lucky to have you._ But thankfully, she realized the ineptness of such an inappropriate remark.

“I’m glad you called,” he said, looking down. “Glad I could take you away from that place.”

He made to leave the room, when she called after him.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Will you – can you just stay a bit longer until I fall asleep? I promise I’m tired enough that it won’t take long.” She kept her tone casual, almost light, but her request was anything but.

She just knew she didn’t want to be completely alone right now.

Jughead was momentarily startled. His expression was almost vulnerable. But he didn’t say anything. He just walked up to the bed and sat down on the edge.

Veronica leaned back against the pillows.

She looked at him through half-lidded eyes as he surveyed the opposite wall, waiting patiently for her to drift off.

Sometime before falling asleep, she reached out for him. Or maybe she was already dreaming, she didn’t know. But she felt the reassuring weight of his hand in hers. He was rubbing comforting circles into her palm. Unlike Reggie’s touch, this one she didn’t want to draw away from.

Jughead held her hand until she was fast asleep.

He stared at her sleeping frame, curled up like a child under the covers.

He felt a small pang in his chest. She couldn’t know that she had echoed Jellybean’s request. When they were children, she used to ask him to sit with her until she fell asleep.

Veronica was very different from his sister, and yet he felt a certain unnamed affection for her.

He reasoned with himself that it was brotherly – brotherly affection.

Nothing more.  


End file.
